by Kendall Ryan
With a deep, steadying breath, I rise to my feet. “I still have no idea if I can do this, but I’ll try.”
“That’s a good life philosophy. Brave . . .” He checks his watch and gives me a slight smirk. “And decisive, too. You had an extra minute to spare.”
“Thanks. Will you hold it against me if I have to bail halfway through?” My voice almost quavers, but not quite, and I count it as a small victory.
He looks amused as he fishes out his wallet and hands a couple of large bills to the bartender. “Not if you come up with a decent excuse. In business school, this girl stood me up twice, and both times she claimed her roommate died.”
A giggle escapes me. I’m still so nervous, I feel a little breathless, but if he’s trying to set me at ease, it’s helping a little. Still, I can’t help but wonder if the girl he’s talking about was a real date or a hired escort. I can’t ask that, though, can I?
Just because we’re spending time together outside of work doesn’t mean I’m comfortable with him. Far from it. This man exudes confidence and power and raw sex appeal. And I’m trying my hardest not to notice that last one.
Dominic leads the way to the front of the bar and then holds open the heavy glass door for me. I step past him, and then we face each other on the sidewalk. He just looks at me for a moment, and I’m not sure what to say.
“Am I dressed okay?” I finally settle on, unable to take the intensity of his scrutiny any longer. I’m still dressed for work—black suit pants, white button-down shirt, a red cardigan over that.
His mouth twitches with the hint of a smile. “You look very proper.” Softening his tone, he adds, “I hope I didn’t hijack your evening.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t have any plans. Other than maybe getting a head start on my new project.”
Dominic chuckles and nods toward the sidewalk. “Will you be okay to walk in those heels? The restaurant is four blocks in that direction. If not, I’m happy to get a car, whatever you prefer.”
Maybe that’s why he was looking at me. To determine if I could make it four blocks without breaking my ankle in my high heels.
“I can walk.”
“Perfect.”
We start off, and since I don’t usually walk this way, I’m busy cataloging the little bakeries, cafés, and gift shops that I’ll probably never get to enjoy. At least, not until I’m pulling in a bigger paycheck. Putting my brother through school is every bit as difficult as I feared it would be. I just need to stay focused.
As we walk, I’m desperate to break the silence, and search for some small-talk topic that will keep us occupied.
“So, you’re not dating anyone?” I settle on.
“God, no.”
He answers so fast, I actually giggle. “Jeez. I didn’t ask if you had the plague.”
Dominic smiles warmly at me. “I’m too busy to date.”
I return his smile. “I know the feeling. At this stage in my life, the only thing I want to focus on is my career.”
He nods. “That’s very admirable.”
We reach the restaurant with its glass-and-chrome doors, and Dominic stops with his hand extended.
“Appearances, remember?” he murmurs, his voice deep and silky. “When I said I need a woman on my arm, I meant it literally.”
I swallow, then place my hand in his. His palm is warm and solid and engulfs mine completely. It’s a little disorienting.
As we enter together, I can’t resist sneaking a peek at him. I’ve never set foot in such an opulent restaurant. The red carpeting is thick beneath my heels, and crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Each table is draped with a creamy linen tablecloth and bears a vase of fiery orchids.
Dominic greets the hostess and gives her his name. She leads us to an intimate curved booth where an older man sits drinking a glass of red wine. He looks to be in his fifties, with a slight paunch and a neat fringe of salt-and-pepper hair around his ears.
He stands up to shake hands with Dominic. “Great to see you again. As you can tell, I got here a few minutes early and decided to get a head start on the evening.” He chuckles at his own joke.
Giving him my best customer-service smile, I offer my hand and he shakes it. “Hello, I’m Presley.”
“A pleasure to meet you, miss. I’m Roger.” Then he looks at Dominic. “Boy, you just keep getting them younger, don’t you?”
It takes effort not to let my face fall. Jeez . . .
Dominic’s expression stays pleasant, but the look he gives Roger is razor sharp. “Presley is only four years younger than me, actually. She also happens to be brilliant. She went to Brown University on full scholarship, she’s interned at several of the Northwest’s top companies in finance and leadership, and in high school, she won the national coding competition four years in a row.”
Roger and I both blink at him, stunned. Butterflies fill my stomach. Dominic has every reason to flatter this guy, but I secretly like the way he leaped in to defend me.
And how did he remember all that stuff? Dominic has my résumé, it makes sense that he’d know everything about my career accomplishments, but I’m surprised he can rattle off so much from memory. The warmth in my chest grows at the thought.
Roger clears his throat. “That, ah . . . yes, that’s quite the list. Should we have a seat and order some dinner?”
Dominic’s lips twitch with the hint of a smile. “Perfect,” he replies in a sunny tone. “I’m looking forward to getting down to details, but first we need some refills on drinks.” He nods to Roger’s wineglass, which is half-empty.
We sit, with Dominic between Roger and me. I try not to look visibly shocked at the prices as I study the menu.
Dominic leans close. “What would you like to drink?”
It’s unnerving having him so close, but not entirely unwelcome. His crisp, masculine scent—leather, and cedar, and something I can’t name washes over me, and the heat from his thigh is so close.
“Um . . .” It’s hard to think with him almost touching me . . . not to mention that deep, smooth voice practically murmuring in my ear. “Is there a white wine here you recommend?” Hopefully that sounds sophisticated enough to mask the fact that I usually just grab whatever has the smallest price tag.
“They have a pinot gris that’s quite good. I’ll order us both a glass.” In a softer tone, he adds, “You’re doing fine, by the way.” Then he pats my knee reassuringly under the table.
I almost gasp when his touch sends an electric jolt straight up my thigh and beyond.
He’s just being nice, I sternly tell myself. Absolutely platonic. But my body doesn’t care. It reacts the same way it would if any attractive, eligible man were touching it.
Pressing my knees together, I force my attention back to the menu.
Chapter Seven
Dominic
Presley leans in as she speaks, her eyes sparkling along with the candlelight and crystal of the dimly lit restaurant. She’s telling Roger all about the ballet programs in the city.
For the very first time, I’m the speechless one. Usually, my escort keeps her words to a minimum, sprinkling in the occasional nod and laugh. But Presley has me beat for Roger’s attention.
“Really, I think Julie would love it. Especially if she’s inclined toward dance,” she says, placing an encouraging hand on the table between them.
“She is definitely chock-full of energy, that kid.” Roger’s granddaughter is five, and his wife keeps her after school on weekdays. From what he’s told us, she’s a little terror. Rampaging around the house, breaking things both accidentally and on purpose. “Meanwhile, I find myself running lower and lower on energy every day.”
He raises his glass to us. “Not that you younger people can relate. You don’t have to worry about kids for years,” he says with a wistful sigh.
I snort, to which both Presley and Roger turn.
“Thank God,” I say, covering smoothly, and I tip my glass toward his. We clink our dr
inks together, and I can see Presley eyeing me inquisitively over her wine.
“To preserving energy,” I say.
“To ballet,” Presley responds, and Roger laughs heartily. If I haven’t won him over, my date certainly has. And how could she not? She’s gorgeous, smart, funny . . .
My intern turned escort.
I mentally chastise myself. I’m not dating Presley. Don’t get too comfy with this, Dom.
It’s easy to talk to her, easy to work with her. She’s young and bright and beautiful, but that doesn’t mean I get to picture how her pouty mouth would look taking my cock, or get myself all jacked up on her pheromones—no matter how good she smells, or how warm she is sitting beside me.
I’ve seen interest flickering in her gaze when our eyes meet, but still, Oliver is right. I can’t fuck her. Which really puts a damper on tonight.
I lean in and try to compose myself. “Roger, tell me. What’s your opinion on a financial partnership with us?” Okay, so this was a little more straightforward of an approach than Ollie would have suggested, but I’m rolling with it.
“You’ll have to tell me more.” He leans back against the tufted booth. “What kind of partnership are you thinking?”
“You’ve been a longtime client of Aspen. And you’re a consistent customer at my hotel, in particular, and a pleasure to do business with. Your last company-wide reservation put us right in the margins that we needed to be in. It’s been incredibly profitable for us, and we want to return the favor.”
“I’m listening.”
“If Roger Harwood, LLC invests in a small share of Aspen Hotels, we can assure you an even better deal than what you’re getting.”
“Your father told me I was already getting the best deal there was.” Roger swirls the ruby-colored wine in his glass.
“That may have been true at the time. But I’m not quite as shortsighted as my father,” I say with a smile. “Dad had goals but didn’t execute them outside of his comfort zone.”
“What kind of goals are you talking about?”
“International goals,” I say, and he sits up a little straighter. “I know you have a lot of business out of the country, and I can assure you that once our international locations are funded, all Harwood employees can enjoy the benefits of being friends of Aspen Hotels.”
As I lay out the details of the deal, I can feel Presley’s gaze on me. For the first time during the dinner, she’s completely still, her eyes locked on my face, watching my lips.
Fuck, that’s distracting. What is she thinking about?
“Presley, what do you think?” Roger asks, turning to her.
She returns his gaze and smiles warmly. “I think it’s a fucking good deal,” she says, then glances at me as if to ask, Too much?
I can’t help the smile spreading across my lips, and I chuckle.
Roger outright erupts into laughter. “A fucking good deal!”
“Let me try that again.” Presley grins, her eyes bright. She places her hands on the table in front of her, and proceeds to blow us away with her knowledge of Aspen Hotels and how Roger could benefit from this deal.
Grinning, Roger leans forward. “Where did you find her?” he asks me.
Swallowing, I meet Presley’s eyes, and have to mentally compose myself, because fuck. I’ve never been this turned on in my life and she’s nowhere near my dick. Not to mention she’s still fully clothed.
Roger reaches over the table and we shake hands warmly, exchanging promises of setting up a formal meeting soon to double-check logistics and nail down the details. I’m confident that we can satisfy this man’s goals while exceeding our own financial plans.
Dinner is long done and our glasses are empty. It’s time to wrap things up. As we get up to leave, Roger extends a hand to Presley, who accepts with a firm shake.
“Thank you, Presley, for sharing your evening with me,” he says with genuine kindness in his voice.
Presley smiles warmly. “Anytime, Roger. I’ll be around.”
Her statement is curious. Is she trying to make him think we’re dating? I didn’t exactly dissuade him from the idea. What other logical conclusion could he have drawn?
• • •
After dinner, I call a car and we slip inside. The silence in the limo is deafening. How did we go from such friendly conversation to complete silence?
Having an idea why, I clear my throat softly. “You don’t have to be uncomfortable.”
She nearly jumps at the sound of my voice.
Nice work, Dom.
“Don’t I?” Presley asks, laughing softly.
“I understand if you are.”
“No, I . . . I’m uncomfortable with how easy it was.”
“How do you mean?”
“Sitting there, talking business. Flattering the client. Being your date.”
There’s that word again. Why don’t I want to correct her when she uses it?
“You were good at it,” I say in a low voice. Arousal stirs in my veins, and I take a breath to remind myself why this is a terrible idea.
“Thank you,” she says with a soft smile. Even in the dark of the limo, I can see her eyes sparkle. “It was my first time. Doing something like this, I mean.”
She’s a good girl, just as I suspected. She’s probably never broken one rule, done anything outside of her straight-A, Miss Responsible routine in her entire life. So, why does that thought make me want to bend her over my desk and spank her ass?
“Really? I couldn’t tell,” I say, trying to keep my tone cool.
“No, I just wasn’t sure how it would go. Pretending with you, I mean,” she says, wringing her hands. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so chatty about this with you. Duh.”
She’s so fucking cute.
“It’s no trouble. I’m interested.”
“Well, thanks. I’m glad you were my first.” She blushes immediately. “I don’t mean that, like, sexually. I’ve never had a first— I mean— Shit.” She buries her face in her clutch with a groan. Her voice is muffled when she says, “Can you pretend I didn’t just say that?”
“Sure.”
I say one thing, but as usual, my body does another. My cock sure can’t forget that little piece of treasured knowledge.
Presley hasn’t had sex? Unless I misunderstood her, I think she just implied she’s a virgin. She’s never fucked anyone? Never been fucked? With each racing question, my dick pulses.
Well, shit.
This dinner was incredibly successful on the business front. Not exactly a personal victory for the front of my pants, however. I’m still as horny as fuck, if not more than before. Goddammit.
We pull up to her apartment complex. I climb out of the car, walk around, and open her door. She quietly steps out. The distance between us is maddening, but I maintain it all the same.
“Have a good night,” she says softly, almost breathless.
Am I making you nervous, Presley?
“You’re not done with me yet.” I offer her my arm.
“Oh, I’m not—”
“Don’t worry. I just want to walk you to your door.”
“Oh. All right.” She bites her lip, stifling a soft laugh, as she loops her arm through mine.
I can’t remember the last time I walked a woman to her door. It’s certainly not something I do when I’m out with an escort. It should bother me that this feels much more like a date than It should. Presley’s my employee, for Christ’s sake. But I guess I’m still riding a high of how well she did winning over Roger.
We walk in silence up to her apartment door. It reminds me of where I lived in college, an old brick and mortar with a buzzer next to the door. Nostalgia fills me with a thousand memories of the younger me. Bold. Reckless. Carefree.
It seems like a lifetime ago.
I hold her hand up the steps until we reach the top, enjoying how soft her skin is as it rests lightly against my palm. At the door, she turns back to me. I’m on the stair below, our eye
s at the same level. For a moment, we just take in the sight of each other. She really is beautiful with her high cheekbones, wide eyes, and full mouth.
“Thank you, Dominic. I had a nice time.” It’s almost a whisper. She isn’t quite looking in my eyes anymore, but rather her gaze rests on my lips.
Interesting.
“No. Thank you,” I say softly.
Her hand is still in mine, and I lift it to the lips she’s been staring at to press a chaste kiss to the back of her hand. I swear I can feel her take in a breath. With my lips still touching her, I meet her eyes.
A blush spreads across her cheeks. “See you at work,” I murmur.
Moments later, I climb into the limo. I settle into my seat, watching as Presley unlocks her apartment door and steps inside.
“Home, sir?” my driver asks.
“Yes, home.”
• • •
“Poke him.”
“I did.”
“Again.”
A tiny finger nudges my Adam’s apple. My eyes open, still hazy with sleep.
God, how long was I out?
I squint against the morning light streaming through my bedroom window. Lacey’s honey-colored curls float into view. She and Emilia are on their tippy-toes, reaching for me with their chubby little arms.
“You better not poke the bear,” I grumble. “In the morning, the bear is hungry!”
I launch out of bed with a growl, sending my toddlers scrambling away with yelps of joy. With the blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I stomp down the hall.
Lacey yells, “Run!” and Emilia cries out, “Hide!”
I chuckle as I follow them. God, they’re fucking cute. Even if I’m not ready to be awake yet.
They both scramble into the kitchen, hiding in plain sight under the dining table. I make an effort not to look, sniffing the air and circling around them with big, loud steps.
“Where are my little cubs? They must be so hungry . . .”
“We’re hungry! We’re cubs!”
They both crawl out from under the table, grasping at my legs. I let them pull me to the floor where I sit cross-legged and wrap them in my arms. Their familiar smell . . . their familiar weight against my chest . . . this is all I need, right here in my arms.